BROKEN
by oblivion7
Summary: The son of Odin faces a new reality.


BROKEN

Rating: T - Fantasy/Angst - Thor, Frigga, Heimdall

Disclaimer: Thor and all characters associated with the movie belong to Marvel and a lot of other folks—I'm grateful to play in their universe.

Setting: Scene between scenes, a time just before the end.

Synopsis: The son of Odin faces a new reality.

He commanded wind, rain, thunder, and lightning. A whirl of the hammer, a mere fleeting thought to his hand, and the forces of the universe were at his control. It all seemed so simple, to have so much power at his fingertips…

Yet he could not erase the look of sorrowful accusation in Loki's eyes from his mind.

Nor did his power and immense strength prevent his brother from falling into the blinding abyss beyond the broken Bifrost.

Thor could still hear the festivities below, but none of their gaiety touched him. Not wanting to ruin the happiness of others, he sought out his father, hoping to find solace in apology and contrition. Odin recognized his son's agony, and Thor could see the pain in his father's eyes, a sight he had seen before but until now never fully understood. Yet even the All-Father was unable to spare his heir the torment of watching his brother disappear into the void.

Slipping quietly into his chambers—usually an impossible feat, given that Thor was often as boisterous as Volstaag—he closed the doors and set Mjolnir as guard. The obedient hammer stood on end, lightly touching the entrance just enough to prevent even the strongest Asgardian from pushing through. It seemed to watch as Thor paced from one wall to the other, not knowing why it had been assigned such a simple task but waiting patiently for its master's summons.

Thor slowly stripped himself of the flowing cloak, the greaves, the gauntlets, the breastplate, every piece of the outer and inner armor that seemed to define him. Yet nothing could strip away the image of his brother from his eyes…

He stood empty and bare as the breeze blew the soft curtains against his chest. First sun had already risen, its orange rays glistening as the warmth dried the slight sheen on his skin. Somehow, the usual beauty of the day was lost on him this time. He stared until his eyes began to burn from gazing intently as now the white daystar began rising where the great bridge had fallen apart, as if to make certain he realized just what he had done.

Unable to face the brightness any longer, Thor turned to fall into his bed and curl as he had once done as a child. This time there was no hiding, however; what happened was known by all, and though no one found him guilty of wrongdoing, he knew in his heart the truth of his father's accusation all those days ago.

Vain. Greedy. Cruel. Unworthy. And to think, he had called his father a fool.

Worse was the feeling—no, certainty—that Loki was somehow, somewhere alive and would never forgive him. They were not brothers by blood, but each could fathom the other even when they were apart. Thor knew he now had an enemy for life, one he would battle endlessly-but swore to himself he would never kill. Even so, he realized that nothing short of his own demise would satisfy Loki's bitterness; he had seen it on his face, heard it in his fading cry, felt it in his own soul.

If he could only have peace from that look.

Thor ignored the gentle persistent knock at his door, knowing that his guardian would keep out any intruders. He just needed time to sort through everything that had happened, the worst of which was the inability to see the mortal woman whose company he had grown to enjoy. So many bridges destroyed in his life, so much to atone for…he wondered how many lifetimes he would have to face before he could find comfort again.

The knock stopped. He sighed in slight relief until he realized he was no longer alone in his chamber.

Frigga had always been able to come and go anywhere in Asgard; there seemed to be no door able to keep her out when she made up her mind. To this day, Thor still hadn't found out how his mother could slip into his room without his knowledge, even with his hammer as guardian. He once thought she might have Loki's teleport ability, but he never asked and even his father seemed at a loss for how she did it.

Frigga said nothing. She paused for a moment, saddened by the downfall of one son and seeing the devastation of the other. She sat next to him and watched for a long while as the afternoon fell into evening. Slowly she reached out and stroked the silken gold of his head, tenderly touching the powerful shoulders, pausing with her soft hands covering thick fingers capable of devastation and ruin—but which now only gripped the bedclothes in anguish and pain. He shivered at her presence, secretly glad that she came, amazed at how she always knew just when and how to comfort him.

Wordlessly Thor laid his head in her lap, his arms encircling her waist. She embraced him in kind, and for a long while they held each other as they shared a common loss. She thought back to a lifetime ago, when two heads slept soundlessly beneath her hands—one the brightness after sunrise, one the dark of a stormy sunset.

She missed her twilight child, whose sparkling innocent eyes and mischievous grin could lighten her most somber moods. She feared she might never see him again, yet she ached more for the child now suffering the agony of guilt. She understood the reasons, and knew this was but a new beginning for them all—and not necessarily a good one.

As the room faded to dark and the other worlds began their nightly rise, she lifted Thor's face to hers and kissed his forehead. After brushing the hair from his eyes once more and giving a last touch to his cheek, she rose smoothly and walked into the shadows.

Thor tried to see exactly where she disappeared, but was unable to penetrate the darkness.

When he followed he was greeted only by empty air and a solid wall. He managed a smile. His mother had done it again. Not only had she appeared and disappeared without a trace, but had taken much of his misery with her. It was no wonder Odin still loved her, protecting her more fiercely than he did the whole of Asgard.

Pulling on his clothing, Thor still felt hollow with his brother's absence, but also knew what lay ahead. His path, once certain and simple, was now filled with cloud and doubt—but somehow he felt comforted by the fact that since he had learned so much in so short a time, his new destiny would teach him even more.

The depths of night had rendered the city silent when he took the round about way to visit the remains of the Bifrost. As always, Heimdall stood watch over the bridge to the worlds. With once blue crystalline eyes now made amber from the unending watch over the realms, and whose creamy skin was now darkened from the standing in the glow of countless suns—as well as the powerful emissions of the Bifrost generator—the guardian seemed undisturbed by the destruction. Broken it may be, but other realms would still use it to contact Asgard even if they couldn't navigate its length: it was an energy landmark used by anyone travelling this quadrant of the galaxy. As a result, Heimdall's vigil had not wavered.

As a youth, Thor had once—on a dare from Loki—sidled up to the silent sentinel and asked if he ever ate or slept. The depth of that single word response taught Thor just what fear was, though he had swallowed his pride and forced himself to walk a distance away before running as fast as he could. Because of his hasty retreat, he missed the barely perceptible grin that had crossed the sentry's stony face.

Thor now approached the inexorable guardian just as hesitantly as when he was as a child, wondering if Hemidall found fault with him for the Bifrost's destruction. However, he received the slightest nod of acknowledgement and respect as he stepped up. Yet the amber eyes never wavered from their overlook where the great bridge once existed. The two stood steadily watching as the universe unfolded, breathed, lived and died around them—and Thor found a new contentment in knowing that like Bifrost, he would build himself again.


End file.
